Vindictive Lamb
by Uozumi
Summary: At first Claire blamed Castiel and then God for her father abandoning the family, yet the more she thought about it, the more Dean Winchester appeared to be the right person to blame. Longer summary inside.
1. One

**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Chapter Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Amelia, Claire, Jimmy; Jimmy/Amelia  
**Genre** Dark/Drama/Family/Fantasy/Het/Revenge/Supernatural  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 1588  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, CW, WB  
**Summary** At first Claire blamed Castiel and then God for her father abandoning the family, yet the more she thought about it, the more Dean Winchester appeared to be not only the right person to blame, but the only entity she could eliminate to prevent Castiel from harassing her family ever again.  
**Warning(s)** ideologically sensitive, spoilers for all seasons  
**Chapter** One, in which Jimmy returns to his family and Claire realizes what she must do to keep him put.  
**Notes** I've been meaning to write this story for a while, but the words wouldn't come to me until recently. I decided to peg Claire as about thirteen in the episode she appeared in because I bet you can't be possessed by an angel without being at least thirteen-years-old. I also have chapter two completed and am half-way through chapter three. I think this story should be somewhere between four and six chapters.

_**Vindictive Lamb**_**  
Chapter One**

It had been over a year since Claire Novak's possession by Castiel. Claire and her mother Amelia were living on the eastern coast of the United States now, surrounded by lore and a large fishing industry. According to Amelia, Claire's job during the school year was her studies, but during the summer, Claire tried to find what work she could. Amelia was working two jobs and taking university classes on the side. It kept Amelia out of the house except for Sundays when she would drag Claire to church, thinking that as long as they remained faithful everything would turn out all right in the end.

Claire was uncertain about church. There they recited from a book that was a mistranslation of a translation while following rituals that seemed antiquated and in need of reevaluation. There was no mention of angel possessions. There were no assurances that her father was out there somewhere alive and safe. There was no way of knowing, no matter how long she stood up at the rafters of the church to try and glimpse God, that her life would ever return to normal.

At first, she blamed Castiel. Yet, he, for lack of a better pronoun, was just a pawn in some larger game. She could still remember the conversations and events that occurred during her possession. She remembered the angels whispering to her when she was one with them. They were all one big football team filled with jerks with muscles the size of their heads trying to impressed their absent coach. After a few months of being unable to find satisfaction in blaming Castiel, Claire blamed God. Even then, however, it did not last. Did God control genetics? Maybe He just let things go like dominoes and her father and she were just unlucky all these generations later. Besides, blaming God did not give her anything tangible to scream at or question. How could a person lash out at a burning bush? How could a person lash out at sunshine? At rain? Claire really could never figure it out.

Therefore, after about six months in the small New England town, she came to blame Dean Winchester. He had been rather cute, so blame came slowly. Yet, as she moved from being a seventh grader to an eighth grader, she felt like everything became clearer. Castiel liked Dean and he liked him a lot to the point of denial. She knew why Castiel vacated her father's body and why he had been punished. Sometimes the few images of the torture she gleaned from their shared consciousness invaded her nightmares. She also learned Castiel had taken her father in the first place because Dean had gone to Hell. Everything came back to Dean, spurring Claire to formulate a plan over the past three months.

A loud thump in her mother's bedroom startled the teen from her plotting. Her mother would not be back from work for two more hours. Everything was dark except a hallway light downstairs and Claire's own desk light. Claire slowly reached down and grabbed the broom she kept near her feet. It was the best weapon she could have in the house without raising suspicions about its unorthodox purpose. Claire listened but for a long moment, but there were no subsequent noises. She got up and kept the broom close to her.

The hallway was dark. She head the springs of her mother's bed creak, but if Amelia had come home, she would have said something. Even when Claire was asleep, she heard her mother speaking through her door so Claire would not get suspicious of noise in the house. Claire winced when she slid her hand against the broom handle and came away with a splinter. She stared at her mother's closed door and watched the knob turn. She prepared to lash out, but the broom fell from her hands and clattered to the floor. The man in the doorway's clothes were worn and the scent of stale alcohol, months of sweat, and other unpleasant smells clung to him like a bum. He stared at her a long moment.

"Claire…?" His eyebrows drew together and his face twitched as though he might cry.

"Dad!" Claire wrapped her arms tightly around Jimmy's waist and buried his face into his shoulder. Even if he was scruffier and smellier than she had ever known him, she knew it was Jimmy and not Castiel instantly.

Jimmy returned the hug tightly. He kissed the crown of her head. "Where's…?"

"Work." Claire reluctantly let her father go when his stomach rumbled loudly. "I can whip something up." She turned to the stairs. "Mom will be home in a couple hours." The home was a two story duplex with two bedrooms and a narrow staircase that led down to a parlor and entryway. When they turned left, they entered the kitchen, which had a dining room off to its left that connected back to the parlor. Claire began pulling down the ingredients for spaghetti. She filled a pot half way with water and set it to boil. Chewing on her lip, she glanced over at Jimmy who was getting a drink. "So…uh…Castiel…?"

"Went to Heaven." Jimmy turned the faucet all the way to cold as cold it could get. "My service is over."

Months passed. Fitting back into the family they once were was impossible, but slowly new dynamics took hold and became normal. Jimmy eventually found a job working in the advertising department of the local government. Amelia kept one of her jobs and moved to a day shift. Claire came home from school and there were family dinners again.

Claire had friends one of whom could drive and they went to all the basketball games for something to do on the weekends. Their school pulled students in from all over the county was set to go to the state basketball championships that spring. The championships were a few hours away in the capitol of the state and Claire would be due back late that night. The championships had been fun especially with friends goofing around in the bleachers even if their high school lost. Creeping into the house at a quarter to midnight, Claire debated announcing her presence but hushed voices from the kitchen made her pause. Claire closed the door quietly and removed her snow boots, careful not to make a sound. Then she made her way to the stairwell and sat down. From there she could almost make out what her parents were saying.

"…Jimmy." The rickety wooden kitchen chair creaked when Amelia shifted her weight on it. "I'm trying – "

"I know," Jimmy interrupted. "You don't have to accommodate this. It'll eventually even out."

"When?" Amelia paused and then asked again, "When does it end? When you crash the car asleep at the wheel? Jimmy, you're taking sleeping pills and not sleeping. You need to talk to someone about this."

"Who?" Jimmy's chair creaked and then there was footsteps pacing on the linoleum floor. "Any good doctor will just toss me in with all the crazies."

Amelia's footsteps joined him. By the squeak in the floor, Claire estimated that they were standing somewhere near the kitchen window. Amelia spoke something too quiet for Claire to hear. Jimmy responded, his murmur sounding apologetic. It was a variation on an argument Claire caught sections of ever since her father returned to them. He was not sleeping due to something related to his experiences with Castiel was keeping him awake. She knew that one night he woke screaming as though something was trying to rip his heart out of his chest. She knew that many times whether she was getting a drink in the middle of the night or waking up earlier than usual to get to school for a project or something that Jimmy was always awake as though he had been up a long time before she appeared.

Claire took a moment and then walked over to the door and opened it before closing it again. "I'm home," she called out as though trying to avoid waking anyone who might be upstairs.

"We're in the kitchen," Amelia called out.

Claire put her gloves in the pockets of her coat before hanging it up and entering the kitchen. Her parents stood near each other by the sink. Her mother had her back to the stove and her father was leaning on the kitchen counter with his back to the window.

"How were the games?" Jimmy asked. He still looked rough around the edges and his eyes were dark and sagging.

"It was…basketball," Claire offered and retrieved a ration of milk. "I'm going to head to bed." She looked between her parents. When Jimmy reappeared, she told herself she would not extract revenge against anyone. What was the point if the reason for the revenge was now undone? However, the more she watched her father struggle with normal life, the greater the temptation to enact her plan became. He was barely clinging to the job he had, the only proof he slept was the fact he still was alive. Although, Claire was not certain that outside forces might keep her father alive so Castiel would have a vessel. She certainly was never going to say yes to that angel ever again. She also could not let Castiel repossess her father, and there might be only one way to keep that from happening.

Claire Novak had to get rid of Dean Winchester.

**To be continued…**


	2. Two

**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Chapter Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Ben, Claire, Dean; implied Lisa/Dean  
**Genre** Dark/Drama/Family/Fantasy/Het/Revenge/Supernatural  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 1799  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, CW, WB  
**Summary** At first Claire blamed Castiel and then God for her father abandoning the family, yet the more she thought about it, the more Dean Winchester appeared to be not only the right person to blame, but the only entity she could eliminate to prevent Castiel from harassing her family ever again.  
**Warning(s)** ideologically sensitive, spoilers for all seasons  
**Chapter** Two, in which Claire finds a potential solution to her quest and Ben notices someone is observing the Braeden home.  
**Notes** Thanks for the response. I'm glad that people saw potential in my story. I hope this doesn't disappoint! Also, I made up the nothing jar.

_**Vindictive Lamb**_**  
Chapter Two**

There was always the possibility that her efforts would rebound back upon her and she would be cursed. Claire frequented the local college's libraries and read ancient texts preserved on microfilm and consulted books that she could not even scan. Claire told the librarians she was doing a paper for her world history class at school and they helped her track down some small but significant readings. The texts told her about spells and potions that could ensure Dean Winchester could not influence Castiel's actions ever again. However, the texts also warned that if she was unsuccessful, some spells could rebound against her and not accomplish anything helpful at all.

What all documents pointed to that unless Claire wanted to put some white snakeroot in Dean's food, she needed something of his possession to make whatever curse work. It could not be simply a piece of paper he touched, but something he had owned and thought of as his possession. Claire was not certain how she could come into any of Dean's possessions, so she bided her time.

As spring turned to summer, Claire tried to secure a job since her family was in no position to take off on a vacation this year, but there were none open to her. As summer began to reach record temperatures, Claire was asked by a local woman named Temperance Maloney to help her with the antique shop she ran. Temperance could not pay Claire, but she promised that if Claire did a good job, she would always give good recommendations for future jobs Claire might pursue.

The antique shop was in an old church, the pews replaced with shelving and the Sunday school classrooms provided adequate storage. The shop was filled with obscure looking artifacts of many purposes beyond kitschy cutesy knickknacks meant to live in cabinets with glass doors. Claire was moving some items from storage to the showroom when something caught her eye. It was a bronze jar cast in the shape of a rotund woman squatting with frogeyes and a tongue that stuck out. Claire touched the tongue and the head of the jar opened. Despite how she turned the jar, Claire could not see the inside of it. The shadows were always too dark.

"I haven't seen that piece in fifteen years." Temperance walked over and took the jar from Claire. She held it up to the light and squinted. "You can't see inside of it even if you shine a flashlight or put a lit match inside. The person who gave it to me called it a 'nothing jar.'"

"What's it used for?" Claire asked. It seemed like it had nothing inside of it when she was holding it.

"The man who gave it to me said that if you put something into this jar, it never comes out again." Temperance brushed a strand of graying hair out of her eyes and set the jar down on a cart that was set to head back to storage. "It's too dangerous to sell. I feel better knowing it's in one of our storerooms. What if it's true? That could get people into a lot of trouble, don't you think?"

Claire eyed the jar and then nodded. "Yeah. I can take this cart back, if you want."

"Alright. I want it to go to storeroom three, Claire." Temperance waved a hand towards what used to be Sunday school classes and turned towards the front door of the showroom when the bell rang.

Claire nodded and maneuvered the heavy cart out of the old sanctuary towards the Sunday school classrooms. The classrooms had large swatches of butcher paper on the doors with numbers one through four painted in fading red paint. Claire opened the door to room three and held it with her hip so she could get the cart into the room. The room was filled with boxes and shelves. The antiques stored in this room were either variations on antiques already on display or things like the nothing jar which looked creepy and potentially dangerous. Claire began setting things into the categories set out in the room. Lastly she placed the nothing jar in an out of the way place where it might not accidentally get onto a cart meant to go to the show room.

"Nothing jar," Claire murmured to herself. "Looks like a frog lady, made out of some kind of copper or brass or something." She closed her eyes and committed the image and what she had heard from her boss to memory. It sounded potentially more secure than a spell, but she had to make sure what it might do before she used it.

On a quiet street in the small town of Cicero, Indiana, the light on the street corner stopped working last month and no matter how many crews tried to fix it, it still would not light. Dean Winchester had been living in the house across the street from the defunct light for almost a year now with Lisa Braeden and her son Ben. Late morning found Dean and Ben getting ready to meet Lisa near the Morse Lake reservoir to have lunch outside once she was done with the yoga class she taught on Saturday morning for local people. Dean shut the trunk of the impala, which was cleared of weapons, and then followed Ben's gaze to the lamppost across the street. Dean saw nothing, but Ben was intently watching something.

"What is it?" Dean walked over and stood next to the soon to be fifth grader.

Ben's eyes shifted to look at Dean. "Don't you see him?"

Dean looked at the surrounding area. He saw houses, privacy fences, cars, but nothing that could really be called a "him." Dean took his hands out of his pockets. "I don't see anyone."

Ben looked back at the lamppost and stared a long moment. "He's gone now." The child looked back at Dean. "He was tall and dressed like a bum."

Dean looked at the lamppost, but still he saw nothing. Shivering, he pulled his shirtsleeves down. "Let's go. Your mom's waiting."

Once the impala pulled away and was out of sight around the corner, a tall man materialized under the lamppost. The wind blew his longish brown hair out of his eyes. He lingered a moment longer before vanishing completely.

The nothing jar could be one of several metal jars made during the Bronze Age in many parts of the world. Deepening on the origin of the jar, it could simply be a jar devoid of light or it could make a whole person disappear simply by putting a lock of hair or material possession of theirs into the jar. The trick with the most dangerous of jars was to consciously think of the object, animal, or person one wanted to eliminate while placing the possession into the jar. That way if the possession could be linked to multiple entities, only the target would disappear. Most jars, according to the legends, would not make the user disappear even if they bled into the jar. Claire tried to narrow down her search, trying to find a frog woman jar, but she had no luck. That meant she would have to test the jar before she tried to make Dean Winchester disappear.

Claire walked down the tree-lined streets on her way home from work a few days later. She needed something reliable to test the jar on. There was the neighbor's cat that came around to their yard periodically, but there were times the cat would not show up for months, so that would be unreliable. She could find a lizard, take its tail, and see if that made the lizard disappear, but she doubted that when she went to make Dean Winchester disappear that she would be as lucky as to have his hair or fingernails to put in the jar. She needed a test that would involve a possession.

Yet, if she did test it, where would the object go? There were many explanations in what she had researched, but none of them had any way of being the truth. If she was simply sending things to Hell, then Castiel could end up possessing her father all over again. If Claire was really going to do this, she had to test the jar to see which kind of jar it was.

Claire stepped on something that crunched under her foot, breaking her from her musings. She frowned and stooped down, picking up what looked like a dog collar made out of friendship beads. Some of the threads were loose, which was probably how the collar ended up on the sidewalk in the first place.

"I think I dropped it around here," someone whined from behind Claire.

Without thinking, Claire pocketed the collar, careful not to flash it to whomever was approaching from behind.

"I need to fix it. Muffy pulled on it and some of the beads came out." A girl a year ahead of Claire at school came into view when Claire looked over her shoulder. The girl was normally quiet and tended to keep to herself. The heavy-set woman beside her looked to be either her mother or grandmother and was scouring the ground as well.

"Don't worry," the matriarch stated. "We'll find Muffy's collar." Her eyes lit onto Claire. "Excuse me, but have you seen a dog collar?"

Claire looked to the woman, then to her classmate, and finally to the wriggling rat terrier her classmate was carrying. "What does it look like?" Her hand was still in her pocket around the piece of property in question. The sweat on her palm made the beads slide against her flesh.

"It's beaded," the older girl stated. "The background is white and then I strung raspberry colored beads to form the word Muffy. It's got sky blue beads around the edges.

That was exactly the collar in Claire's pocket. She felt her head shake more than she told it to shake. "I haven't," she replied, hearing her voice as an outsider. "I'll let you know if I do." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blue bead on the ground near her foot. She carefully stepped onto it. "I should get home."

"Thanks, uh - " the older girl paused.

"Claire. Claire Novak." She wedged her shoe over the bead, trying to wedge it into the tread of her shoe.

"Thanks, Claire. I'm Molly Warner." Molly shifted the rat terrier in her arms. "See you around." Then she and her mother continued down the street.

Claire reached down, picked the extra bead out of her shoe, and put it in her pocket with the others. She had something to test, but she wanted to sleep on it first.

**To be continued…**


	3. Three

**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Chapter Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Amelia, Ben, Claire, Dean, Jimmy, Sam; no pairings really in this particular chapter  
**Genre** Dark/Drama/Family/Fantasy/Het/Revenge/Supernatural  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 2009  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, CW, WB  
**Summary** At first Claire blamed Castiel and then God for her father abandoning the family, yet the more she thought about it, the more Dean Winchester appeared to be not only the right person to blame, but the only entity she could eliminate to prevent Castiel from harassing her family ever again.  
**Warning(s)** ideologically sensitive, spoilers for all seasons  
**Chapter** Three, in which Dean learns Sam's situation and Claire tests the nothing jar.  
**Notes**

_**Vindictive Lamb**_**  
Chapter Three**

It was the time of year when the days were still long but the sun set at a reasonable hour. Dean was in route to put his paycheck with other things that needed to go to the bank the next morning when he stopped. Ben was sitting in the living room watching TV, but he was turned on the couch to look out the window at the defunct street lamp. Dean followed his gaze but again there appeared to be nothing there. "You know, when I was your age, kids caught lightening bugs."

Ben jumped a little and then looked back at Dean. "I've caught them before." He frowned and shifted his weight. It was one of countless times that Lisa or Dean had caught Ben staring out there at something. Lately, the boy had been avoiding admitting to what it was he was looking at.

"Is that guy out there again?" Dean asked and walked over to the window. He still saw nothing, but it was not the first time a child could see something he could not. Also, the longer Dean stayed away from hunting, the more he found he could overlook benign supernatural occurrences.

"Yeah." Ben watched Dean peer into the growing night.

Dean was quiet for a long moment, debating his next course of action. He was trying to live that normal life. He wanted to honor Sam's last wish. However, this had been going on all summer and he could not let it continue on into the school year. He had heard a parent mention it was the bus stop, and who knew what would happen when kids started congregating there. "I'll take care of it." He set his paycheck where it belonged and then entered the kitchen with Ben in tow. Ben watched Dean retrieve the salt tub and put one of the fancy knives into his pocket.

"What are you going to do?" Ben kept up with Dean.

Dean was not sure yet. "Confront it." He went back into the living room, retrieved a battered book, and checked that the bookmark was in the right place. "Stay in the house."

Dean scanned the area for any sign of something out of the ordinary as he headed across the street. There were two patches in the lawn where no grass grew in the size and shape of two large dress shoes. Dean checked the area one last time and then poured salt from the tub into his hand before marking a circle around the footprints. He needed holy water to do a proper rite, but he could improvise for now.

"You aren't looking for a demon, Dean."

The thirty-three-year-old fought back a shiver and turned around quickly. His eyes widened and the salt tub almost fell from his hand. A tall man stood before him dressed for hunting. His long brown hair was long enough that it did not hang in his eyes, but not so long that it went past his neckline. "S – Sammy…?"

Sam's lips quirked. "Yeah." He reached out, took the salt from Dean, and poured a generous amount into his bare hand. It did not burn his flesh nor did he even wince. "And, not a demon." He let the salt fall onto his footprints marking unholy ground. "I'm cursed."

Dean's eyes followed the salt trail. He had no holy water to test Sam completely, but once the Salt was gone, Sam's hands were perfectly normal looking including a scar running along the top of Sam's right hand from when he first tried to use the oven without permission. He felt emotions swell and surge within him. Even if he had found happiness in this past year, he felt as he looked at Sam that he had only been really playing at house. He felt like he had done it on Sam's terms and not his own. Although, every time Lisa asked him to stay, there had always been a rather large part of Dean that wanted to say yes and stay forever.

"If you don't believe me, there's a church – " Sam started to say but stopped when Dean hugged him.

"Dammit, Sam…" Dean murmured and after a long time pulled away. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I couldn't." Sam folded his arms. "I'm not sure what all this curse does yet, Dean. This is the longest I've remained visible so far."

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. "What about Adam?" Last time he saw Sam, both of them were tumbling into the pit.

"I don't know." Sam shifted his weight. "When we first got down there, Lucifer and Michael were still fighting, but after a while, Michael disappeared and then Lucifer disappeared. By the time I was able to crawl back out, Adam was long gone."

Dean glared up at the night sky. He knew exactly who to pin for this mess. When he looked back to Sam, his brother was gone. Dean looked around. "Sammy?" he paused and listened for some indication that Sam was there but invisible, yet everything was quiet. "Hey, Sam?" Still there was no answer.

Dean took one last look around and headed back inside. If Sam were cursed, Dean would fix it.

Claire had to wait the weekend to be reunited with the nothing jar. She took the time to formulate a good mental picture of Muffy the rat terrier in her head. Of course, the collar was technically a possession of her fellow high school student Molly, but Molly disappearing forever would be more trouble than Muffy disappearing forever. When Claire entered the shop, she greeted her boss and went back to bring things out of storage. It was a new week so merchandise was rotated to encourage local antique seekers to visit the store regularly. Today Claire was expected to take items from store room one to the show floor. While her boss was with a customer, Claire quickly slipped into the third storage room.

The nothing jar still sat in its tucked away spot she left it. Carefully Claire removed the lid. She made sure to think of Muffy and she concentrated on her memory of Muffy curled up in Molly's arms. Once she had that image clear in her head, she placed the collar into the jar and shut it. When she reopened the jar, the collar was nowhere in sight. She picked up the jar and shook it lightly and nothing rattled. Claire carefully placed the jar back where it was slightly hidden from view and went to the first storage room to start her duties for the day.

When Claire came home that afternoon, she found her mother sitting in the parlor with Molly's mother, both women still dressed in their work uniforms. "It'll be all right, Bev," Amelia said. "Maybe Claire has seen them."

Claire slipped her shoes off at the door and walked into the parlor. The heavy-set woman's face was entirely red from crying and she was clinging to Amelia as tightly as she had a tissue balled in her fist. "What's going on?" Claire tried not to shift nervously as she entered the parlor.

"Claire, this is Beverly Warner," Amelia changed her sitting position slightly so her legs would not fall asleep. "She has a daughter who goes to your school. Someone called work saying Molly did not go to Bible camp today. Have you seen her?"

"N – No," Claire shivered, "I haven't." She licked her lips. "When did you last see her, Mrs. Warner?"

Beverly let go of Amelia. She looked up at Claire hopefully. "She took Muffy for a walk this morning when I was just heading out to work like always. She volunteers at Bible camp after lunch and no one saw her, so they called me up at work about three. I called our neighbors and no one saw her come home either." She blew her nose on her tissue and grabbed another tissue from the box on the coffee table. "She always walks that dog for an hour in the morning and then…" She let out a long wail.

"Well, it's only six," Claire tried to reason, but her stomach felt like she had been reading in a car for too long. "There's probably nothing to cry over. Maybe she got caught up with some friends?"

Beverly shook her head. "I just know things, Claire, and if Molly has been gone this long, she won't come back. I just know it. My intuition is never wrong, even if I don't listen to it." Then Beverly was caught in a fit of inconsolable sobbing.

Amelia gave Claire a look over Beverly's head. Claire quickly escaped to her room. She threw the door open and looked around wildly. Within moments, she was on her desk, shifting through he papers on it. Her notes, printouts – everything – pointed to the reality she did not want. When she imagined Muffy so clearly in Molly's arms, she condemned both of them to the nothing jar. Claire sat down hard on her desk chair. She felt her lip quiver and her hands began to shake. That girl and that dog both were not going to come back ever again. There was nothing in the literature and legends that gave an indication that something swallowed by the nothing jar could ever return. Claire leaned forward on her desk and grabbed her hair in both her hands, tugging on it.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this was not the answer. Her father had been with their family with no sign of Castiel for months now, and even if that was temporary, Claire began to wonder if she had the right to put something of Dean Winchester's in that nothing jar.

It was late at night when Claire finally ventured out of her room. She had curled up in her bed and feigned sleep when Amelia asked her to come down to supper. The light was on in the kitchen but Claire entered anyway and went looking to the fridge for leftovers. Jimmy sat at the small table reading. He looked up when she entered. "Hungry?"

"Yeah." Claire found some left over lasagna in a bowl and slopped half of it onto a plate, not bothering to warm it up. She took a seat by her father and studied him. He still looked like he slept no more than a handful of hours every night. She poked about her lasagna and then asked, "Does Castiel still talk to you?" That was not what Claire thought she was going to say, but there the question was, waiting on an answer.

Jimmy was quiet a long moment then he shook his head. "Of course not." He looked to Claire, his blue eyes trying to appear sincere but they did not quite meet her own eyes. "I'm retired. The apocalypse is over. There's no reason for Castiel to be on Earth anymore."

Claire nodded. She poked about her lasagna but ate some of it.

"I don't want it to worry you," Jimmy added. "I know things are weird, but they'll get better."

Claire studied him a moment. She could still remember the first time Castiel took her father. She could remember how much it hurt to hear him tell her he was no her father and all the confusion that followed. "I don't worry." She finished her food, trying not to be too pokey about it. Once done, she stood. "I hope you can get to sleep, Dad."

"I always do," Jimmy assured and squeezed her hand so she would know he was all right.

Claire squeezed his hand back and took her plate to the sink. After she rinsed it off, she returned to her room and flopped down on her bed. Her father had not assured her of anything, but at the same time, she did not know how to handle the situation any longer. She would have to sleep on it. I hope that by the morning, she would know how she wanted to proceed.

**To be continued…**


	4. Four

**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Chapter Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Amelia, Claire, Dean, Jimmy, Lisa; Jimmy/Amelia, Lisa/Dean  
**Genre** Dark/Drama/Family/Fantasy/Het/Revenge/Supernatural  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 2180  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, CW, WB  
**Summary** At first Claire blamed Castiel and then God for her father abandoning the family, yet the more she thought about it, the more Dean Winchester appeared to be not only the right person to blame, but the only entity she could eliminate to prevent Castiel from harassing her family ever again.  
**Warning(s)** ideologically sensitive, spoilers for all seasons  
**Chapter** Four, in which Jimmy is only getting worse and Dean sets off to help Sam.  
**Notes** Okay I think we're looking at one to two more chapters after this one. Thanks to everyone on DA and for commenting on the fic for good or for bad.

_**Vindictive Lamb**_**  
Chapter Four**

The blood-curdling scream woke not only Claire, but also their neighbors in the duplex. Claire was out of bed and into the hallway just as the screaming ceased from her parents' bedroom. The door to the bathroom and the bedroom were both wide open. Claire could see her mother wrapped in her robe curled up on the bed with her father. Amelia's hair was wet from the still running shower since she was going into work early this morning. Claire pulled the door closed quietly. They lived not too far from the local police station, and she could hear sirens approaching. Claire looked down. She had an old t-shirt and old gym shorts on, so it was presentable enough.

The sirens stopped outside of their duplex. Claire made her way downstairs. She could hear her mother moving upstairs. When Claire got to the small foyer, she could hear their neighbors talking to the cops who arrived.

"Claire, get back," Jimmy said. He looked as though he had pulled on whatever clothes were nearest him on the floor. Amelia was behind him and beckoned Claire over to her.

Jimmy opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch area they shared with their neighbors in the duplex. Claire could not make out what was being said from where she stood beside Amelia at the staircase but after a while, two police officers entered the house.

"We need you to step out," the older officer said to Amelia.

"Alright." Amelia ushered Claire out onto the porch and herded her over to Jimmy who was standing off to the side, leaning heavily on the railing. Amelia kept one hand on Claire and reached out with the other, running her fingers through Jimmy's hair. Claire could see their neighbors huddling on the other side of the porch, trying not only to get the greatest distance between them, but also to keep an eye on them.

"I said they could search the house," Jimmy stated quietly. "They might take me down for questioning."

"What happened?" Claire asked. She tried to ignore the look her mother gave her.

Jimmy shifted his weight and kept his voice low. "Nothing happened." He glanced at the door to their duplex. "I had a nightmare."

Amelia looked like she wanted to interject, "More like night terror," but she kept quiet. Before Claire could respond, the police exited their residence.

"I think it'd be in our best interests if you came down with us," the older cop said to Jimmy.

"I'm willing to do that." Jimmy sighed tiredly and slipped away from his family after saying goodbye.

Claire watched Jimmy get into the police car with the officers. The car headed off in the direction of the police station. She shivered, not realized how cold it was in the early fall morning until that moment.

"Let's go back in," Amelia said. "You've got school in a few hours."

In Cicero, Indiana, Dean and Lisa sat on the back deck. The sun was going down and the temperature hovered at that early fall temperature where a jacket was too much but no jacket was too little to wear. "He needs me, Lisa." Dean set his beer down and looked at the woman. "Someone has to help lift the curse."

Lisa leaned forward a little. She looked at the sunset then at Dean. "I understand." She reached out and ran a hand along his arm. "Sam is your brother." Her fingers worked up over his shoulder and skimmed along his neck.

Dean shivered from within. "I want to stay, but…" Dean was not sure how to put it. Part of him did want to stay, but another part was missing the fight, missing Sam, and just needed one last adventure before he truly could settle down.

Lisa pulled her hand away and folded her arms over her knees. "I know you've been staying with us because it was your brother's dying wish, but you've still got some wanderlust in you." She watched his face carefully as she spoke. "If you leave, you can always come back. The light is always on for you.'

Dean nodded and moved closer to her on the deck. The sun was almost completely set, and off in the distance there were white panes of soundless lightening. "I want this. I just can't leave Sam hanging."

Claire was running out of time. Her grades were starting to slip and even though she knew it was not tied to working for Temperance at the antique shop, her parents would tell Claire to quit the job until school was out once she saw Claire's mid-term grades. Every day Claire had to walk past the high school's library multiple times to get to her classes. Next to the library was a large bulletin board students had put up dedicated to Molly and finding her. Claire tried avoiding the bulletin board, but that either made her late for class or was near impossible when she had to go to any class that was down by the cafeteria. Her thoughts were consumed with that frog jar and how to use it for the last time and never touch it again.

She had until fall break to procure something of Dean Winchester's, but even though she had been thinking for months on what it could be or how to come by it, she still had no real plan. She watched her father packing up some coats in the foyer. They were moving across town to a small two-bedroom house. Her parents claimed that now that their lease was up at the duplex, her parents wanted to change locations and free up the duplex for people who might need it more. Claire knew it was because her father's sleeping habits were becoming more bizarre and there had been two other incidents where he woke up screaming in terror. Just looking at him, she could see his face aging faster than it used to and his hair was starting to gray along the temples. Maybe if she got rid of Dean Winchester, she could get rid of whatever was causing Jimmy so much pain. He was starting to look like he was forty-five, not thirty-eight.

"Whoops." Jimmy bent down and picked something up that fell from the pocket of his trench coat. He grew quiet when he brought the object closer to his face to study it.

"What is it?" Claire asked. It had not looked like anything too horrible, just some sort of necklace.

"I'm not sure." Jimmy let the charm drop down so it hung in the air. "It looks like the head of Ba'al."

"Who?" Claire walked over and peered at the charm. It was a head with large horns.

"Well Ba'al is a catch all phrase for pagan gods during Biblical times, but this one," Jimmy poked his finger along the horns, "looks a lot like the particular god the freed slaves were worshiping in Exodus, mistakenly thinking that this particular Ba'al had saved them from Pharaoh." He shook his head. "Castiel recovered it just before he left me here. I think he wanted it to be a sign that I should forgive what happened, but…" Jimmy shook his head. He had not gone to church since returning to their family. Claire doubted he would ever go again in his lifetime.

"What are you going to do with it?" Claire thought the necklace looked familiar, but she could not place it.

"I'm not sure," Jimmy sighed. "I don't think the owner would want it." He looked to Claire. "Does your boss sell jewelry?"

"Sometimes." Claire watched the necklace spin slowly in her father's hand. Sometimes she thought she saw the eyes flash when they caught the sunlight coming in through the window of the front door, but as soon as it turned away from the direct sunlight, the necklace looked normal again.

"Then, maybe you should take it to her." Jimmy handed it over to Claire. "I think it's fairly old and the charm might attract a buyer."

"How much money should I ask for it?" Claire took the necklace carefully.

Jimmy considered. "I don't know. I'm not sure I care. I just want it out of our belongings." He shook his head to clear it and continued packing up their winter garments.

Claire woke in the middle of the night. Her father was not screaming, there were no sounds of mice in corners, and for all purposes, the silence was not oppressive. She knew. Claire clamored out of bed as quietly as she could and went over to the jewelry stand on her desk. She reached out and grabbed up the Ba'al necklace she had set there so it would not become tangled. This was Dean Winchester's necklace! She was sure of that now, and even if it were not, as long as she imagined Dean as clearly as she could, the real owner would not disappear. Claire took a deep breath and ran her fingers along the charm. Now she had everything she needed to do what she wanted to do for almost a year now. Come Saturday everything would be taken care of and hopefully her father would be on the road to being normal again.

On Thursday, her mid-term grade report arrived in the mail. Her best grade was a C+ in Chemistry and her worst grade was a D in English. It all averaged out to a C-, far away from her B grade average she had maintained for the past three or four years in school. She sat across from her father and beside her mother at the small table in the kitchen. Claire poked at the grade report.

"I know there's been a lot of changes lately," Jimmy ventured, "but we want to help you get through them, Claire." He looked at her and then the report. "We can't help you if you don't tell us you need help."

"I didn't think it was this bad," Claire said.

Amelia picked up the report and looked at the column where teachers could add generic comments. "Two teachers report you don't turn everything in, and your English teacher says you're failing tests, Claire."

"Word within a Word is hard. It's all memorizing things that don't make any sense." Claire folded her arms. "I tried studying with others and everything just blanks when I get to the test." Then again, she had been preoccupied. Most of her memory had been devoted to not walking into a trap while trying to make sure Castiel had no reason to come back to Earth. Instinctively she knew not to divulge any of this.

"Maybe you need to quit your volunteer work and see at tutor on the weekend," Amelia suggested. "I can call around and see who's available." They would have to use someone local and unaffiliated with large learning centers.

"You don't have to…" Claire began and then quieted at her parent's expressions. She knew it would be expensive.

"Claire, you have a D in English," her mother's tone grew firmer. "We're gong to get you a tutor and help you get through this."

"When you go to see Ms. Maloney on Saturday, let her know you'll be quitting in two weeks," Jimmy said. He caught Amelia's look out of the corner of his eye and then shifted in his seat. "It's polite to give two weeks notice. You want her to give you a good recommendation."

Claire sighed. "Okay." She let her hands drop from the table into her lap. "Can I go now?"

Amelia nodded. "Supper should be ready in an hour." She got up from the table.

Claire took her chance to escape back to her room. She would have to take care of the necklace on Saturday, or give up on her quest.

On Saturday, Claire entered the antique shop. She wanted to do her storage room duties before she told Temperance that she would have to resign in the coming weeks. Claire was careful not to have her hands in her pockets, though she desperately wanted to check to make sure the Ba'al necklace was still in her pocket.

Claire approached the nothing jar and found it right where she let it. She brought the necklace out of her pocket and closed her eyes. It had been almost two years now since she last saw Dean Winchester. He was tall with brown hair. His eye color eluded Claire, but she could remember how his neck looked with the necklace around it. She took a deep breath and reached out for the frog woman's tongue. The lid popped open. Claire pursed her lip and let the necklace dangle down from her hand, the charm touching along the edge of the opening.

She had to focus.

Dean Winchester, his face, his neck, the necklace around his neck…everything….

She let the loop of the necklace slide from her fingers and tumbled into the jar. The instant the necklace was completely in the jar, the lid snapped shut.

**To be continued…**


	5. Five

**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Chapter Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Amelia, Castiel, Claire, Dean, Jimmy, Sam; no pairings  
**Genre** Dark/Drama/Family/Fantasy/Het/Revenge/Supernatural  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 2915  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, CW, WB  
**Summary** At first Claire blamed Castiel and then God for her father abandoning the family, yet the more she thought about it, the more Dean Winchester appeared to be not only the right person to blame, but the only entity she could eliminate to prevent Castiel from harassing her family ever again.  
**Warning(s)** ideologically sensitive, spoilers for all seasons, violence, character death  
**Chapter** Five, in which the consequences of Claire's actions are realized.  
**Notes** Thank you to everyone who supported this fanfic. It's the first chaptered fic I've written and finished in about two or three years. I'm glad I was able to accomplish this because it only bodes well for the future.

_**Vindictive Lamb**_**  
Chapter Five**

On the west coast, two men sat in a motel room. Sam sat at the table and watched Dean talk with the owner of the motel at the door. All the lights in the room were off and even the alarm clock was completely blank. It was early Saturday morning and even the sun was not up yet.

"I'll find whatever the problem is and fix it," the owner promised and then hurried off to talk to the next guest.

Dean shut the door, locked it, pulled the chain lock into place, and then he smirked at Sam. "Better watch it; he's promising to fix you."

Sam shook his head. "Very funny." He watched Dean walk over and sit across from him. They sky was starting to lighten and it cast a dim light into what had been a pitch-dark room. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. He had been doing the bulk of research since Sam not only disappeared more often than appeared, but also had a perchance for knocking out anything electrical nearby. This particular motel room happened to share a back wall with the generator for the whole building. Normally they would only knock out the power for their room and maybe whatever room Sam was closest too the wall of in most other circumstances. "I found a lot of things, but nothing that's helping so far."

Sam sighed and rose from the table. "Whatever this is, it's letting me access this place for longer periods of time now." Sam frowned. "But that could be from the exorcisms we've tried."

"Most things claimed anyone climbing their way out of hell would be a demon. I don't know if we have to find the pope or what, but we're getting nowhere."

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes. "Maybe I just have to stay away from certain things, or…" Sam's voice trailed when his eyes opened again. "Dean?" He looked around, but Dean was not sitting in his chair. He was not in the bathroom and the chain was still drawn on the door. "Hey, Dean!" he called out, but there was no reply.

Dean Winchester had vanished.

Claire was not expecting immediate changes. She was not even sure the Ba'al necklace was really going to work either. What if it was not Dean's possession? Or, perhaps if one disowned a possession then the magic would not work? She was not sure and had not looked it up. She had to get her grades back up and try to shift her mother and father's worries away from her.

Claire walked down the streets on her way back home from her tutoring session at the local library. Her tutor was a man in his sixties who used to be a teacher until he was forced to take retirement. He knew how to explain things so she could understand them easier, but at the same time, he had a rather monotone voice that was hard to listen to. The sun was already setting and street lamps clicked on in response. Once Claire got home, she would have most of her homework to do still and then it would be time for bed.

Claire shivered from within when she passed a lamppost on her way into her neighborhood. Despite the other lamps shining on the street, this one was completely dead. Claire quickened her pace. She felt eyes on her but saw no one. Checking over her shoulder at the crosswalk, she saw that the lamppost was now lit. The eyes were also gone. Shaking her head, she continued on her way home, hoping it was a fluke.

When Claire walked home each night, the street lamp still did not function always. Sometimes she saw evidence that a work crew had been out and gone, trying to fix whatever problem might be lurking. She debated asking if one of her parents could swing by the library on their way home from work, but that would mean waiting an hour at the library. When she passed the lamppost, even when it functioned or it was too light outside to be needed, her body tensed and she felt like running the rest of the way and never looking back.

The lamppost started to invade her dreams. Under it stood a tall man dressed in white. She never saw his face, but she came away with the impression his hair was rather long. She could feel him staring at her, analyzing her. Even if in her dreams she was dressed for the coldest winter day, but she felt naked and exposed to his gaze.

Claire woke from the dream early Thursday morning and headed out of her bedroom in the one-story house. It had been over a month since the first encounter with the street lamp and she could swear she felt eyes on her as she walked from her bedroom into the kitchen. Claire got a glass down for water, almost dropping it when she heard footsteps behind her.

"It's just me, Claire," her mother stated. Since moving in, Claire had yet to encounter her father up and about at night. He still looked like he was not sleeping through the entire night still however. This was the second time she ran into her mother at such an hour in their new home. Amelia leaned against the kitchen counter out of Claire's way.

"Can't sleep?" Claire was careful to whisper. Her parents' bedroom was not too far away from the kitchen. She hoped she had not woken her mother inadvertently.

"I'm just thirsty." Amelia made no moves to get a drink so Claire tried to hurry up, get her own drink, and get out of the way. Yet, her mother still simply leaned against the counter.

Claire shifted her weight and glanced out the window but nothing was there. She checked what street lamps she could see from the back window and all of them were lit.

"Don't worry, Claire." Amelia moved then and got a glass down. "Your father isn't needed by them anymore."

Claire looked to her mother. "But something is watching. Like that time." Only this was not Castiel. She remembered the feeling of being watched by Castiel. Claire kept the discrepancy to herself.

Amelia's jaw tightened. "Your father is no longer needed." She set her glass on the counter. "Just go back to bed, Claire. Nothing is watching anyone."

Claire finished her drink quickly and set her glass on the counter as well. "Night, Mom." She escaped back to her room. She sat up in bed for a long time afterwards, and looked out the window at an angle that kept the defunct light across the street from her view and knowledge.

A few hours later Claire was in her health class listening to her health professor carry on his usual commentary as he wheeled the projector into place. "You know when I was your age, this is all we had," he commented and set up the projector. The lights of the classroom were already out and once he finished setting up the reels, he would close the blinds. "Forget videos in the classroom." He snorted. "Who am I kidding? More like forget DVDs in the classroom with this generation…"

Claire started to block out his typical speech. He did not always show them projection reels, but sometimes he broke them out to talk about the changing attitudes towards health over time and what information on the reels was relevant to the modern time. Claire looked across the classroom and caught one of the boys winking at her. She found her cheeks flush as her father's did when her mother would flirt with him with no warning and fought desperately to keep from looking like a tomato. She offered the boy a small wave back. He pointed to her, then pointed to him, and then made a phone motion with his hand. Claire stared a moment, then caught on. Carefully she started to write her number down on a piece of paper. She was about to pass it down when her health teacher's unusual growl of frustration caught her attention.

"What the…" he bit back a curse. "Come on, projector – work!"

Claire's eyes widened in realization. The projector was not starting up or registering its cord plugged into the wall.

"The clock's stopped too," one of the girls in her class spoke up. "Maybe the power's out?"

"The hallway light is still on," another student pointed out.

"Could be just this room."

"When does only one room only lose power?"

Claire looked around. She had felt the oppressive air of being watched constantly for so long, it was becoming almost a white noise. Would whatever it was be so bold as to come into her classroom? She tuned her classmates conversation, which had turned to the Ghostfacers on Youtube and whether or not they were actually facing anything but special effects, out and swallowed hard. Claire stood up, not fully realizing what she was doing or what she wanted to do.

"Claire, could you sit down?" Her teacher looked to her. "There's nothing to get excited over."

"It's here for me," she found herself speaking, but it did not sound like her voice at the same time. She had to lead it away from her classmates. She did not know what it was or what it wanted, but it could be dangerous. She had already made Molly disappear and did not need to transfer any more ill will onto any other innocent people.

"Claire – "

She ignored her teacher's protests and ran into the hallway. The lights flickered around her and went off as she ran. Sometimes the bulbs burst and bits of ceiling and glass rained down. Claire tried the nearest exit from the building, but the door was stuck. She turned quickly and ran towards the varsity gym, trying to lead whatever it was away from the other students. Teaches and administrators stuck their heads out doors to see what was occurring, but the debris kept them from venturing out immediately. By the time they could see what was happening, all that was left was the destruction. She could hear her principal's voice echoing in other parts of the building, most likely warning people to stay in their classrooms until further notice.

Claire tripped once she reached the hallway that led to the varsity gym. She landed on her side hard and skidded on the tile floor enough to rip her shirt and skin her arm. She looked up and watched a man flicker into being. His hair was stringy and his clothes looked like he was going camping. Yet, she knew he was the man in the white suit. His stare filled her with the same naked feeling.

Claire shuddered from within. "You…" her tongue was dry. His face was familiar and after a moment, she knew he was at least the body of the man who accompanied Dean Winchester. She did not think that on the inside he was the same at all. Everything was cold and heavy.

"Had a brother," Sam stated. His voice was muted and his eyes remained transfixed upon her. "I think you know him."

Claire wanted to sit up, but her body did not respond to her wishes. The only light in the hallway came from the light still shining at the ends of the hall. Everything around them was dark. The fire alarm over Sam's shoulder was also dead. "I…. He…" she tried to find her voice. She took a deep breath and blurted, "I wanted to save my dad!" Her body felt numb but she managed to push herself up into a sitting position.

Sam snorted. "There's no way to 'save' people from angels." He extended his arm towards her without touching, and within seconds, she was pinned to the wall. She could hear voices through the wall of the freshmen gym class conversing about the odd blackouts and other things through the wall. "Do you want to know how I found you?" He moved so fast she could feel his breath on her face before she fully registered any movement. "What did you think would happen when you put that necklace in that jar? You've read so much and know so little." He placed his hand over her mouth and nose, clamping both shut.

Claire tried to move her neck but all she could do was swallow. Her fingers twitched and her knees bent almost imperceptivity even though she was using her whole strength to try to get away.

"Do you even know where those souls go?" He put more pressure behind his hand, forcing her head to tilt up and back, digging into the wall.

She felt light headed. She needed help but from whom? From where? Claire tried to find a way to breathe, but Sam had her airways completely blocked off. Help would be her only answer. All she could think was "Help!" repeatedly.

It was Thursday.

Sam's hand moved away from her mouth and Claire started gulping for air. Her vision was blurry and her head ached.

"If you're looking for Lucifer, he's not around," she heard Sam say. His voice was muffled and almost sounded like he was underwater, but they were both very much on dry land.

She felt a hand touch her shoulder and her vision cleared. Standing in front of her was her father dressed in his dark suit, his face trained towards Sam who stood at the other side of the hallway. She could hear the faint rustling of feathers that existed on another astral plane than their own. It was not her father.

"Castiel," she whispered.

Castiel did not spare her a glance and removed her hand. His entire focus was on Sam. "I see you crawled out of the pit, Sam." He stood as Claire's shield, moving so he blocked as much of her as possible from Sam's view.

"This isn't your fight, Cas." Sam blinked and his both eyes turned a true white color from the whites to the iris. Then his eyes returned to normal. "You know what she did to Dean. This is between her and me."

"She's a child born on Thursday asking for help on a Thursday. It is my business," Castiel stated firmly. He moved when Sam moved, the two men clashing in the hallway. Sam made a grab for the inside of Castiel's suit coat but the angel rammed his elbow down on Sam's head and shoved him away. Sam staggered back, and held up Castiel's angel sword.

"'Only angels can kill angels,'" Sam considered the sword and then looked to Castiel, "that's what they say, right?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed. He moved again to block Claire's view of the proceedings. She still could see Sam's face even if she could not see the sword.

"Speechless?" Sam continued. He examined the knife while keeping a bead on Castiel. "You know, one time I saw Dean with one of these." His gaze leveled with Castiel's gaze. "I know as long as I have this, I can kill you."

"W – Wait." Claire found her voice and managed somehow to get between Castiel and Sam.

"Claire – " Castiel started to move to protect her, but Claire held her arm out.

"I know I asked for help, but killing my dad isn't what I want either." She looked at Sam. "I – "

"If you think you're going to bargain, you're not." Sam gripped the sword tightly. "Dean is all I have, and now he's stuck in the Abyss. Even if I was Lucifer, I wouldn't be able to drag him out. Your life force was all over the spell. This is only between us and it can only end one way." Sam lunged with the sword.

Castiel pushed Claire back and grabbed the sword with his hand. The blade glowed white, but did not kill since the wound itself would not be fatal by a normal sword. Blood rolled down Castiel's palm and down his arm into his clothes. He kept his grip on the blade tight. He set his teeth and pulled, trying not to cut his hand through, but regain his weapon.

"What's the matter, Cas?" Sam used his strength to pull the sword free from Castiel's hand. He swung the sword, rammed it into Castiel's gut, and dragged the blade upwards. Castiel reached down to counter, but was too late. A hot white light enveloped the hallway. Claire shielded her eyes instinctively as Castiel's grace expelled from his body.

When Claire heard her father's body fall to the ground, she opened her eyes. Sam stood over the body a long moment. Claire wanted to run forward and check, but her legs remained stationary by her own fear. Sam's gaze shifted to her and soon he was in front of her. He looked at her a long moment and then leaned forward.

"We're even," he whispered and pressed the angel sword into Claire's hands.

Then he was gone and the lights flickered back on in the hallway. Claire heard the door to the gym open. She heard the instructor speaking to her but she could not stop trembling. There was a cell phone call to 911 and a scream when a student peeked out the door and saw her father's dead body.

Claire looked at the sword in her hand, the blade still dripping with blood and screamed.

**The End**


End file.
